Almost Perfect
by ChronicallyinFlaming
Summary: Written for Mass Effect kinkmeme. A drunk competitive contest between Shepard and Garrus goes too far.


**M!Shep/Garrus - Bromance - Accidental Romance**

**So over here there was this great prompt  
.?thread=7423614#t7423614  
**_**"So you're on a date with Garrus. It's a bromance that was always perfect. Shepard has pined for Garrus but never made a move because he wouldn't want to lose his best friend by saying he's in love with him.**_

_Then Garrus goes 'so are you going to propose marriage now?'_

_...Shepard says yes. Whatever outcome you choose is cool, I just thought it'd be lulzy and would be the ultimate way to catch Garrus off-guard. "_

_And then there was a great fill._

_But then this anon wanted:_

_**"Oh god, now I REALLY want to see them continue bickering all the way through a bottle or three of brandy and daring/one-upping each other with their joking romance until someone slams down the bottle with a "FINE"  
and a  
"Well FINE. Let's DO this!"  
and manage to have very drunk competitive sexy-times."**_

_So this anon would like to request that someone please fill this second prompt because that would be so freaking hot. Like they totally had a super super un-acknowledged secret desire to try it with each other and somehow manage to stumble on it and then are both too proud to take it back (not that they really want to anyway)._

_Please? *-* with my best puppy-dog-eyes?_

* * *

For all the hangover he'd acquired over the years, all the wounds, all the spasms and bruises that followed rough awakenings after a fight, he had to say that this was probably one of the worst mornings he'd ever gone through. Just blinking made vomit rush upward, especially from this view, this terrible view of the open, empty black universe. Who the hell would put the window on the ceiling? As though playing poker and having to fight the disorienting high altitude view as you bluffed your way through another hand with Vega, and Ashley and Tali, who had a surprisingly bad poker face, all things considering.

Garrus rolled over as his mind decided to add in this one little fact: only one room possessed such a view.

Ah, Shepard. Well, at least he was in the Normandy, and not left on the Citadel with only the armor on his back. The little things to be grateful for. Armor. Armor.

He was not wearing any armor. None of the comfortable weight of it on his back and limbs. Tasting still that brandy, something even worse beneath it. The great Archangel wearing only a borrowed comforter from his friend, how very dignified. Even Shepard's fish seemed to be looking at him, frowning and judging.

Still Shepard lay there, snoring and face down on a pillow. Foot sticking out, pink delicate underside, a slice of hairy ankle, a whisper as he dreamed of whatever the commander dreamed of.

Why were his pants through over that lamp? Torn shirt on the ground.

How they'd laughed, last night, over Shepard's little dumb joke. 'No, let's do it, let's get married. Think of how great the story would be. Diane Allers can record it. Her ratings would go through the roof.'

A nod that Garrus could still see. So reassuring. 'We'll have a great wedding.'

'So long as I don't have to pay for it.'

'I'm a captain; I can officiate the wedding. Or maybe Mordin can.'

'Will Anderson give you away?'

'Liara can be something blue, and she and Ashley and Tali can be the bride's maids. Groom's maids. Vega and Cortez my best men. Joker as the DJ. Kelly will love this. Wrex will give the speech.'

'Yeah, this is all coming together. At least, then we could get some presents.' Leaning back, the ease of a man who thought he was just having a good time with his friend. The best friend he probably had ever had, who he'd die for, and so forth. Cared and admired, etc., etc. A man who the sight of always ease a tenseness in his shoulder, the sight of the firm set hips made him feel stronger just for being around him, despite the un-turianness of them. A good man. The best.

Shepard was still sleeping like the dead.

'Will I have to see you dance, during the reception? That's tradition, isn't it?'

'Always laughing at my dancing. Like you can do any better. Like_ any_ of you can do better.'

'We can all dance better than you, Shepard. Even Joker. And he breaks a hip on the dance floor.'

The eyes, blue, and widening for sympathy. 'But you still want to marry me, right?'

'Of course. Who wouldn't?' Not entirely a joke, considering how many admiring the commander. Rather than sitting here, drinking with his scarred turian shipmate, he could have been talking to any of the people in this bar. Male or female, human or otherwise, he drew the gaze. Shoulders impressively broad. How many people had he saved? Impossible to know. Who wouldn't want to…

'Right. Since I am the best shooter on the Citadel.'

Things said that were just drunken bravado and bragging that they'd said dozens of times before. Words spilling out, from playful rage to real anger as Shepard refused to be the one to move his face away first. Swallowing more antihistamine—found in Shepard's pocket and never explained-both of them, making the tension only spike higher since at the least, there were no more allergy excuses. Why did he have to be so stubborn, and how the hell did a turian and human kiss anyway? None of the halovids really focused on that part of mixed xenobiology...why were human teeth to square and flat, anyway? The tongue, though, that was the same, and that really, well, they could figure that part out.

'I'm a better kisser than you too.'

'You're terrible!' Even as he'd tried not to shove his face forward for another go, a newly found eagerness of turning the power and control to someone else, just this one. The sloppy sticky taste.

'You're as bad a sharpshooter as you are—oh, fuck it, let's try that again.'

Again, a puckering soft, desperate kiss that would make his toes somehow curl, just remembering it the following morning. Pulling away took a few tries. A smeary defensive, 'Yeah! Well, you're too cowardly to put a ring on this finger.'

'Which is your ring finger, exactly? But I'll do it! I'm Commander Shepard, and I'm going to marry you!'

Another bottle emptied, as they tested the other ('Even drunk, I still have the better aim,' said while they had to squint just to see straight). The holding of hands, sure that Shepard would lose his nerve and drop it, the playing with each other's feet to make the other uncomfortable. The realization that Shepard, given the crazy acts he'd done and the way he'd jump onto the dance floor completely sober, had no shame or fear. Leaning against each other, ('hey, we have to get married before I let you get to second base.' 'So _uptight_, Shepard') as they left the bar and tried to figure their way back towards the ship.

'After we get married. We won't have a change to do it.'

'Because of the Reapers.'

'No. The kids. Running underfoot.'

Mandibles twitching, Garrus had either wisely or incredible stupidly, let that one go.

Shepard's room had no place to really sit, and leaving his room didn't really occur to the turian. He sat on the surprisingly comfortable bed, watching the commander attempt, and then fail, to drag his office chair over. In the end, the human male settled for sprawling before the fish tank as they passed a bottle around.

'But I just really want it. Really. Just do it. I don't want to die with those regrets.'

'I understand.' Garrus had just stared, trying not to drop the mostly empty bottle of brandy. 'You do it.'

'You!'

'Yeah, me! Cause you can't figure it out!'

'I can too!'

'Then do it!'

'Let's do this!'

In retrospect, surprising that no one had come up to ask them to keep it down. Also, nice of EDI not to have said or done anything—or perhaps a streak of cruelty and sadism, the first strike against organics that Javik warned them of. If she made sure there wasn't any footage or evidence of this, than Garrus would personally clean the Normandy, and buy any upgrade she wanted.

'Do it!'

'I will! Take off your clothes! Husband!'

'You too, mate that I'm going to spend the rest of my life with.'

A wrestle that turned out not to be an attempt at sparring, Garrus realized too later, as he watched Shepard rolling around on the ground, clutching a bruised stomach. 'I hope that doesn't count as domestic abuse.'

'I'll get you back for that.'

'Sure you will.'

A gasp as the man tried to stand up. 'C'mon. I thought you were so good with that rifle. That long rifle. Fancy sniper rifle.'

'I think the analogy has gotten away from you, Shepard.'

'Because it's not really that big? Show me.'

'Oh, I'll show you,' Archangel had assured Shepard, while shoving him into the bed. Past the bed, onto the lamp which was promptly knocked over. Then Garrus had to help the human back onto his feet, and then toss him again onto the bed. Watching the hero that the universe had turned to in its dark hour wiggling out of his pants was something rather surreal. There was also nothing dignified about having to help each other remove their boots. Still, even for someone that didn't have much appreciation for the human form, Shepard in a half-ripped shirt, panting and squirming, underclothes slipping off, it was...appreciable.

Neither of them knew exactly what the hell they were doing.

'Oh.'

'Huh.'

'You look alright, Shepard.' Not completely foreign, somewhat appreciable, all square and solid and bending in the wrong way. Scars on both of them that were impossible not to compare and better yet, touch and explore. Hair was absurd, but not unpleasant.

Ducking the soft fuzz-covered head that felt indescribably delicate against his talons, Shepard's face more intense than when he'd been shooting at those bottles. Touching, wet kisses to his thighs that made Garrus fall over onto the bed. That lapping, he'd never felt such a thing, never, never. A laugh and lick in exchange for rolling and grunting into the face of his commander. Formax would have had a field day with this. After all this was through, they could sell pictures of this, and retire to some beach somewhere.

The last things sliding down and thrown about to be found the next morning, to be stared at and collected just as Shepard woke up with a yawn and demand for Garrus not to leave.

That frustrating tongue licking that pink wet mouth; also not unpleasant to see. So nice that Garrus had to roll the Commander over to better inspect the territory. Spreading the round soft ass, the soft tremble in Shepard's voice, 'So, how does this…?'

Met with Garrus bringing his hips up. 'There.'

A clear: 'Augh.'

That the knowledge that gun lubrication did not work at all on skin was one that Garrus would rather not have learned. Nor that the human penis was very delicate and grabbing it with a taloned hand could make even Shepard yelp out like a startled animal. Too fuck, oh, oh, that warmth and tightness, why had he waited so long, this was everything, everything, Shepard, everything good.

'Oh god. Wait. I have lotion. Use the lotion.' Trembling, and making Garrus smile and kiss the knobs of his spine. As he reached forward to dig around the side table drawer that had been pointed out, all full of random bits of gun and unfinished replica space ships. Shepard's panting filled the room. A squeak of the hamster running in its wheel. Perhaps too late, Garrus hit a button to the small white device sitting there and witnessing this to play some music and cover the sound of all this.

But if someone were to walk in on this, basically, there was no defense. I was trying to, trying to. My mandible got caught. We tripped and fell. We were fighting. We are fighting. Leave, because we're fighting and it's violent and bloody. And I don't think I can leave this bed without falling over.

But Shepard really did have a great ass, for a human. 'You really do have reach.'

'But you're not all that flexible, I have to say.'

Grabbing him by the shoulders, trying not to dig in. 'We're already fighting and angry at each other. I think our marriage is going well.'

The lotion for shaving, and mostly full, which explained some things. That rough growth of beard scratching against the pillow, and making Garrus wonder what it felt like against his plates.

'Go harder.'

Those hips so sturdy, though not as nice as touching the soft round head or the warmth between his legs, the cock bobbing to nearly touch that flat stomach. Defenseless, like this. 'I don't want to hurt you Shepard.'

'I'm going to so be chafing after this, aren't I?'

'We should have listening more to Mordin about this stuff.'

Somewhere from the afterlife, the mad scientist had to be nodding, knowingly. Going on all about his information on mixed species sex. Warned them. As all the others of their past watched and turned away with disbelief. The image spinning before his eyes, disappearing before the rushing throb of this moment, of finally, of finally _this._ Their friends and allies remembered without a sear of pain.

Gasping, struggling Shepard who was pounding on the walls, ready to bunch a hole through the hull of the Normandy. Given his implants from Cerberus, he might actually have had a shot at it. And that was how they'd die. 'And Joker.'

Garrus had to grab a hand to pull behind a muscles back, shoving the other vaguely downward. Shepard, touching himself, twitching, reaching for the pillow to squeeze, grunting like a he was Grunt and about to take down a legion of Reapers. Hand really moving up and down on himself, sweating, looking like he was enjoying this more than Garrus, who could barely move his hips out of fear. Solid and human and smelling of alcohol and sex, and arching that back when pressed down further into the mattress. That smell, the tanned skin.

'…I want to bite you.'

Turning that dark head, 'What?'

'Mating habits.'

Mouth puckering, and making Garrus want to pull him up and roll him over to kiss. 'Where?'

'Everywhere.'

That loose insane grin that Shepard was so famous far. 'After.'

A hand reaching backwards, stroking along his stomach, along his side. Tips of his fingers cold, as though he was dead. Glancing upward, as though wanting to make sure that the turian was having a good time.

Garrus remembered with a shudder his crying out, 'You're just my best friend. I couldn't stand anything to happen to you. The best thing. If anything –when you were dead.' And then, right then—gasping and tightening his talons to cut into Shepard's skin. That perfect moment. Where he didn't even care he was having sex with Shepard, a human spectre that had saved everyone time and time again, never buckling under pressure or the growing responsibility as everyone turned to him for guidance. How could he not care for Shepard, after all these years of watching him beat the odds?

The words kept pace with the large, five-fingered hand. 'I know, I know. Please. There.'

His head hung limply. 'I really do like your scars.'

'I like yours.'

That low cry that made Garrus smile, and then proceed to fall over.

Onto the bed, trying not to crush Shepard beneath him. Unable to resist nipping at a shoulder blade that peaked through in the most interesting way. Better than whatever thin fantasy he'd concocted, this night. So much better. The freedom to throw everything drunkly to the side, all the hesitations and doubts and fears that Joker knew he was peeking through his entirely too-large collection of porn for the turian/human section, and more specifically, on the male turian/male human parts. That everyone knew exactly what was hidden beneath the camaraderie and loyalty, that he was just as obvious as Liara had been about her feelings for Shepard. Only he didn't get any Prothean excuses to spend time with the Commander.

Having a hand stroke along his mandibles and crest, gentle. Seeking. The other hand turning off the music. 'Wanted to do this for so long.'

But then, there they were.

'Not as long as I have,' Garrus assured the human beneath him. At least no one had actually wept any tears or revealed any long deeply withheld, restrained love or some such emotional outburst. There was still some dignity, even as he had to fish Shepard's sock out of the fish tank.

Yeeeahh, that eel over there was definitely looking at him with disgust.

Shepard was falling asleep with every word. 'Next time, I'm on top.'

As Garrus' own eyes were falling shut, face cushioned by the lightly freckled muscle back beneath him. 'Oh, we'll see.'

'I'll officiate the wedding in the morning.'

Words to haunt the turian as he stood there, trying to casually pull on his wrinkled and fish take-dampened and alcohol-drenched clothes. No, no it could not be done. "Garrus? Where are you going? You don't have to leave."

"I think it would be best-"

Right then EDI decides to intrude with her usual professionalism. "Shepard?"

Hard not to run from the room, like a coward. But of course, EDI_ was_ the Normandy, and there was no escape on the ship from her. Had to know everything, exactly what they'd done, every position and touch.

"Diana Allers wants to talk to you. About 'an incidence last night at Purgatory.'"

Garrus felt the colors seeping from the room. The stories told, the gossip, the raises eyebrows and pointed looks. His father hearing that story, no wonder he had never brought or spoke of anyone romantic in his life, and what was this about Shepard being a human? "Crap."

"C-Sec has also sent a message to inform you that your rented car was towed and to pick it up."

"Thank you, EDI. I'll get right on that."

But there was a look in those blue eyes that even a hangover could not diminish. "Garrus?"

"I should leave." Should have left hours ago. What had he been thinking with this? How could they even continue their friendship with this hanging over their heads? Every time they'd be alone together, they'd recall what they'd done together. The little details, like Shepard having had Garrus' penis in his mouth before allowing the turian to fuck him.

That smile still on his face. How many times had he seen pictures of it, scattered throughout various worlds, endorsing various things, stating bland encouragements and blinking even less than the real Shepard. "Stay."

"We aren't drunk anymore, John. Not really, anyway."

Nothing discouraged that smile. "I know. Remember what I said about 'next time?'"

He nearly tottered over, standing there still missing a shirt, pants half-undone, seeing the crumbled bed, the hair on his stomach and chest, the teeth he wanted to run his tongue over, the opaque layer of dark fuzz. On the other hand. Already too late to stop it, and seemingly becoming too late to deny what had happened. And Shepard was offering this again, the sheet slipping down. His hangover seemed to be slipping away.

Garrus sagged towards the bed. "Oh, what the hell. The crew probably already knows about our interspecies liaison. And it's not like I don't respect you. Even after last night."

"Yeah, yeah, come back to bed already. Then we'll find out who's the better with the rifle."

"Are we still discussing that? I thought it was pretty obvious I won that contest…"

"Best two out of three?"

"More like best three out of five?"

"Mmm, seven out of ten?"

"How about fifteen out of twenty?"


End file.
